The Duck Pond Incident
by Master Of All Imagination
Summary: One fine day at the park, Crowley pushes Aziraphale into the pond. They both end up with some unwanted insight into the life of a duck. One-shot! Friendship only.


***Special thanks to Kryschenn, who let me borrow an idea briefly mentioned in her lovely fic What Friends Are For and expand it into this story. Go check it out! It's awesome.* **

It was a fine day at St. James' park as Aziraphale and Crowley strolled aimlessly along the banks of the pond. They stopped occasionally to lob pieces of bread at the, by now, totally dough-addicted ducks. *1*

Suddenly, out of nowhere, an idea in true keeping with Crowley's demonic form sprang into his mind. He contemplated Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he could get away with it. Mentally, he shrugged. It was just too good an idea to pass up. So Crowley turned and gave his companion a quick, hard shove. Aziraphale didn't even have a chance to cry out before he threw up his arms and fell sideways into the pond, sending its native inhabitants scattering with indignant quacks.

Aziraphale floundered for a moment and came up spluttering, his hair plastered to his face, but Crowley barely noticed on account of being doubled over in fits of hysterics.

"What was that for?" Aziraphale demanded. Crowley merely shrugged. Truth be told, it had been a spur-of-the-moment impulse, and he had acted on it. "Well, don't just stand there laughing! Help me out, please!"

"Oh, angel," Crowley said, traces of mirth bubbling his words, "even when you're sopping wet in a duck pond you still say please." Aziraphale put his hands on his hips, but the effect was vastly negated by the fact that he had water reeds in his hair.

"Crowley! Crowley, come over here this instant and help me out!" The angel yelled irately. *2* The demon, still giggling madly, recovered himself enough to step carefully to the edge and reach out a hand to his friend.

With a sudden mischievous grin, Aziraphale took the proffered hand and gave it a sharp yank. A moment later Crowley tumbled into the pond after Aziraphale, making quite a splash as he did so. Aziraphale cackled *3* at the demon's karma, delighted to have contrived his own way of helping it along and getting a little revenge in the process. Crowley surfaced beside Aziraphale, and the two totally soaked winged beings regarded each other, chest deep in murky pond water, and laughed.

"That wasn't very nice, angel!" Crowley mock-admonished while attempting to climb the reedy bank to shore. Aziraphale grabbed the tail of his jacket, however, and pulled him back in, chuckling gleefully as he did so.

"Neither was what you did, and I suppose neither was that!" he exclaimed happily. Crowley grinned wickedly and from there, the pair's attempts to exit the pond quickly escalated into an immature water fight, with both sides laughing and splashing and falling and generally making fools of themselves in equal amounts.

When they finally heaved themselves up on dry land, breathless and consumed with mirth, they had to lie there for a while simply to catch their breath.

"I must admit, that was probably the most fun I've had in a long time," Crowley said, glancing over at his prone companion.

"I'd have to agree with you on that," Aziraphale replied. Crowley laboriously stood up and offered a hand to Aziraphale. He helped the angel up and they stood side by side, brushing down their hopelessly mud-caked clothing.

"Though I now have some unwanted insight into the life of a duck," Crowley observed ruefully, miracling his and Aziraphale's clothes dry.

"Perhaps you'll think twice next time you attempt to sink one," Aziraphale prodded. Crowley thought for a moment.

"No. No, I don't think I will." Aziraphale shook his head with a small smile.

"I thought not."

~End~

1. It has been hypothesized that the St. James breed of duck has evolved to totally subsist on bread. One would wonder what they ate in the winters when clandestine companions met less frequently. But the fact was that Aziraphale took pity on them and came down to the park in secret once a week to feed them whole loaves at a time.

2. Or at least as irately as an angel can yell.

3. Or at least as much of a cackle as an angel can manage.

**A/N: I'm sorry if the dialogue came out funny. It sounded great in my mind, but then again, everything sounds good in my mind. : ) Also, I've been thinking about doing a GO one-shot collection. I have a few shorter pieces written/in the works, and I don't like publishing things under 1,000 words on their own for some reason. So you may see this in a collection in the future, along with a few other things perhaps. Hope you enjoyed it! If so, please leave a review!**


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